


The Party Goes With You

by letsprayitwritesitself



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsprayitwritesitself/pseuds/letsprayitwritesitself
Summary: "When you strike your goodbye pose, everybody knows, everybody knows... The party, well, it goes too, and damn it all darling. The party goes with you." Two boys, two parties, six years apart.





	The Party Goes With You

_[damn it all, darling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3KTl26Epew) _

**2017**

He was handling this whole thing (that is, his sister's wedding, though to close friends he did just call it "the thing") better than he thought he would, but he largely thought that that was due to his overestimating the amount of attention that was bestowed on the brother of the bride (some, not none, and definitely not enough for anyone to clock that he was kind of falling apart inside). He felt that if anyone, his mom, a well-meaning cousin, god, even the DJ, looked him in the eye and said "How are you holding up?" his stomach would fold in half, his heart would drop out of his ass, and a lump in his throat the size of Sarah and Kath's wedding cake would be the only thing stopping him screaming.

Even Les had a date.

When Sarah had announced it, subtly flinging out her hand as soon as she walked into the living room where she'd gathered them, he'd experienced both happiness and sadness in their most roundabout ways. Katherine was completely perfect for her, and kind, and successful, and funny, and she'd be a real star of an addition to their family. And Sarah deserved this happiness so much, so it wasn't that. The important thing at that point was that Davey was smart enough to unconsciously know what actions were expected of him, the grinning, hugging Sarah, putting an arm round his mom's shoulders as she cried, but there was a horrible, stubborn pocket of irritation that he resisted unpicking until he'd returned to his own apartment, carefully closing the door behind him, slipping his shoes off by the entrance, walking over and taking a seat on the couch before letting out a huge, shuddering sob. 

But none of any of this was personal, that's what he had to remember. No-one had planned this wedding with the intention of making him feel like a socially inept sad sack, but unfortunately that was just something inherent, he guessed, in all weddings. Like the first dance, where Sarah and Kath had twirled, staring into each other’s eyes, to David Bowie, and then his parents had joined, and Kath's parents, then Les and Sacha, and all of the cousins and workmates and everyone, but even if Davey had resigned himself to dancing at  _some point_  that night, dancing on his own to a love song was really really something else. To the bar for his next drink, while there were no crowds, and he was feeling like his need for wine had already peaked. He leaned on the bar, staring down at a stack of beermats, waiting a few seconds for the bartender to come over. 

'Can I have a...' He looked up. Eyes met. Froze. 'You...' The name. God, he had a name... 'Jack?'

* * *

 

**2011**

Nineteen year old Davey did not like parties but found himself at them often because of his unwavering trust of his older sister's opinions. She'd always told him that parties were the only way to actually get to know people rather than just  _meeting_  them, and as much as he hadn't wanted this to be true, he didn't have very much evidence (any evidence at all) that there was any other way. He was glad at least that her advice was remote, that they hadn't ended up at the same college, because he knew she wouldn't love the way he was conducting himself here (although if she was here he'd at least have someone to hang out with.) He leaned against a wall, drink in hand, and when he cast his eye around the room he could easily spot half a dozen people he knew, including the roommate he'd come with, but none that he felt at all okay with actually talking to on purpose of a Friday night. 

His mind, over the first four weeks of college, kept flitting back to the David Nicholls quote that had punched him in the gut as he'd ridden the train to Providence to start at Brown. The one in  _Starter for Ten_ , about loneliness. 

 _Make no mistake,_  he had memorised the quote after so many times reading it through blurry eyes,  _lonely is the absolute worst thing to be... tell someone you're lonely and of course they'll seem sympathetic, but look very carefully and you'll see one hand snaking behind their back, groping for the door handle, ready to make a run for it, as if loneliness were contagious._

It was one thing that the quote was apt and heartbreaking, but another that it was so god damn inconveniently fucking true. He'd almost hyperventilated reading it the first time because he was so shocked and ashamed, that David Nicholls had stared out at him from the pages of a novel and accused him directly:  _You're lonely, Davey. You're lonely._

And the pathetic self-fulfilling loneliness had followed him around, even lingering under the irresistible hope that of course he would find friends in college, because that's what you did in college. There were ten thousand students there, one of them had to be the right kind of person, but where the fuck were they? They certainly weren't in any of his classes, across from him in the library, or even serving him coffee in Starbucks. 

His roommate Spot was nice. Nice was the wrong word - friendly enough, in a kind of begrudging way. But he was cute, too, which was an issue, because Davey tended to be hugely intimidated as soon as he realised he held the slightest attraction for someone. He fought against it, because hello, if there was one person he had to try and be convivial with, it was this guy, but he didn't know if they'd made it to  _friends_  yet. As soon as they'd arrived at that party, one someone in Spot's Chem class was throwing, he'd been abandoned, and he was trying not to let himself feel annoyed about that. (And failing.)

Out of nowhere someone approached him. Sirens. Abort. Danger.

'I'm Crutchie, are you new?' 

He had nodded and shaken the hand of the most non-threatening person he had ever, ever seen. 

'Yeah. David.'

'David. Nice to meet you. I hate these things too, don't know why I come.'

'You look like you're doing better than me.'

'Between you and me, David, I think everyone here is bluffing. Apart from you! Unless you're actually really stoked to be here?'

'No...' First laugh of the night, albeit a quiet huff of one. 'No, I'm really not. Don't know why I'm still here.'

'I'm only here because my friend from home is visiting, and I'm trying to pretend I'm cool. I think it's working!'

'I'm sure it is.'

'I'm actually only over here on business - he, don't tell him I told you... thinks you're cute. And asked me to find out who you are.' Crutchie grinned sheepishly and Davey blushed, not even aware of who this friend was, but sure he was about to be the subject of a cruel practical joke. 

'That's not... I'm not...' He cleared his throat and took a sip from his empty cup. 

'He's called Jack. Over there.' Crutchie nodded across the room to the most beautiful thing Davey had ever seen. But he wasn't even looking at them, he was deep in conversation with some girl. 'He's only pretending not to see us, promise!'

'Look, if you're making fun of me - that's fine, I just, I don't really feel like it tonight.'

'I'm not! Ok, he asked me to find out three things, uh - okay one, if you're cool, which I think you are, I can't really tell. Two, if you're into guys and three, if you're single?'

'I'm...' He shifted, unsure of whether or not he should play along. 'I'm, yeah I'm into - and, um. I'm not cool. I'm sorry, I need some air.'

 _This is for the best,_  he thought, as he headed out into the back yard. It was easier and less embarrassing in the long run to not even try - and he was aware that this was obviously not helping the loneliness thing, but at that moment in time, he felt like it was way easier and less stressful to just let this opportunity pass him by. He'd get the next one.

He sank down on a stone bench, heart beating in his ears, feeling like a total idiot for thinking that tonight would be any different. Obviously the cure for social anxiety wasn't just ignoring it and hoping it would go away, because he'd probably be cured. So was this just his life? No. No no no no no not tonight. He didn't want to think about that now. He stood up, turned to go, and walked directly into Jack. 

 

**2017**

'Hi.' Jack froze, stammering out the word. 'Davey.'

'Jack...' Davey gripped the side of the bar as the whole marquee tipped to the side, unsure if seeing Jack at this thing was the best or worst thing that could have happened. 

'Davey.' A grin spread slowly across Jack's face. 'White wine, right?'

'Right.' He watched as Jack poured him a drink and slid it across the bar where he gripped it like it was about to be taken away from him.

'It's only just clicked,' Jack said, leaning on the bar. 'Sarah's your sister.'

'Yup.' He took a long swig of wine. 

'How's the day been?' 

'It's been great. Perfect, really. You know, family, wedding cake, all that stuff.'

'And how are you?'

'I'm fine.' Another sip. 

'Yeah?'

'I'm great. This is all great.' And another. 'How are you?'

'I'm great, too.'

'How long have you... been back?'

'About a year. Give or take.'

'Was Santa Fe everything you dreamed?'

'Yeah. It was. Yes and no.'

'Really?'

'Well, yeah. It was what I expected, what I hoped it would be, y'know. Problem with wanting something your whole life, is you change but the thing you want stays the same, 'n that's not always... well. Here I am.'

'Here you are.' 

'And are you back in the city?'

'I will be. I've been in Rhode Island since graduation, but. I'm over it, I think. I can write anywhere.'

'You're a writer? Like, a real one?'

Davey nodded and Jack grinned again, eyes crinkling as he reached out and rubbed Davey's arm. 'Look at you! God, that's the first thing I ever learned about you, that you wanted to write. Congrats, Dave.'

'Thanks.' All he could think about was covering Jack's hand with his own and making sure he didn't leave his side. But that would be impractical. He glanced down and realised Jack was already refilling his glass. He laughed nervously. 'I was thinking of just taking the bottle and running.'

'Nah, don't do that. Then you wouldn't have to come back and see me when you needed a refill.'

 

**2011**

'Hi. I'm Jack. I'm extremely sorry about... all of that.' He glanced over his shoulder, back into the house. 'You'll be pleased to know Crutchie is getting fired as my wingman as soon as this party's over.'

'No, he was fine. Really. I just... It was too crowded in there. Hard to think.' Wingman? What did that mean? Like, Davey knew what it meant, but hearing it used where he was concerned just made him more sure this was a joke.

'I know what you mean. Lot of hot air. Do you mind if I join you out here? I brought stolen goods?' Jack held up two bottles of wine, one red, one white. 'Which one?'

Davey looked between them, and Jack. He nodded towards the pinot. 'White.' And they sat back down on the bench, looking out over the lawn to the stars. 

'Who are you here with?' Jack unscrewed the top and passed the wine to Davey.

'My roommate. He disappeared like... five seconds after we got here. I am not having fun.' He said this last part with a bit of a smile - it was still mostly true, and saying it was kind of like a defence, telling this beautiful guy that he didn't necessarily have Davey eating out of the palm of his hand just because he was speaking to him.

'You looked like you were on your way out of here just now, that right?'

'Yeah.'

'Don't have to let me stop you, I just. Really wanted to meet you.' Jack pulled a face. 'That sounded less weird in my head.' Davey studied him for a second. He didn't  _seem_  like he was making fun of him. But that's what someone who was making fun of him would want him to think. He sighed, deciding he couldn't know for sure, and that the best thing to do might be to chill the fuck out - just in case.

'It sounded fine.' He glanced over at Jack as he passed the wine, and while part of him felt like he couldn't look directly at him 'cause it would be like staring into the sun, the rest of him just wanted to take everything in. 'I'm David. By the way. Don't know if Crutchie said.'

'He did, but. Nice to get confirmation.' Jack offered his hand and they awkwardly shook over Davey’s lap.

'He said you were just visiting?'

'Yeah, couple of days. Miss that guy.'

'Where are you at school?'

'I'm not.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'No, come on, it's fine. Actually, tonight I've been pretending. Been telling people I'm studying to be a doctor, ballet dancer, told one guy I'm doing a masters in fortune telling and he bought it.'

'Did you predict him anything?'

'Oh yeah, dude, full Trelawney! How about you, what are you studying?'

'I don't know, yet. Maybe pre-law. Maybe writing.'

'Torn between two passions?'

'I wish. Torn between my parents and myself, you know how it is.'

'Guessing the writing is what you want?'

'Mmhmm. But not practical.'

'"Practical" is a disgusting word. Look at the moon.' 

Davey glanced up unthinkingly. It was vast and bright, and the night itself was cloudless and mild. It occurred to him that he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be than sitting on this bench in this garden. 

'What, um,' He spoke up before the moment got too loaded. 'What do you do?'

'I just quit my job. I mean, it was a bartending gig. Not a career or anything. I'm moving next week. 'Swhy I'm visiting Crutchie.'

'Where you going?'

'Santa Fe.' 

Davey had only distantly heard of it. It sounded far, and different. It was jarring even to hear it said. 

'Wow. That's great.'

'I've wanted it for... for like ever, I guess.' Jack couldn't keep the grin off his face.

'What are you doing out there?'

'When I picture it in my head, I'm just painting and swimming, but I guess I'll have to do something else. Tend bar. I don't know. Wait tables. We'll see.'

'That's incredible. That's so exciting, Jack.' Even the move from New York to Rhode Island had been a lot for Davey. It had felt huge. 'Why Santa Fe?'

'Just always been in my head. Open skies, more room to breathe. Grew up in Manhattan, and like, the idea of fresh air and wide open spaces just seemed like a fantasy.'

'I grew up in Manhattan too.'

 

**2017**

They sat on beer kegs outside the marquee, Jack smoking a cigarette, Davey taking steady sips from a pint glass of water. It was a couple of hours since that first drink.

He had done what he'd always known he had to do, even before the surprise introduction of Jack, and that was plastering on a smile and getting through the night. Dancing with aunts and baby cousins he'd never met before, jovially defending his career choice to his grandparents, forcing away any persistent nudges of despair because  _you knew this was going to be tough, Davey, but this isn't about you and soon enough it'll be over._  The Jack thing was a bonus but he was obviously busier than Davey, and there were only so many glasses of wine he could have refilled before he was in serious trouble. 

He could be forgiven, he told himself, for getting - not excited, not hopeful, just... pleased and intrigued by this development. It was a perfect storm of love in the air, alcohol in Davey's bloodstream, and horrible acute fucking loneliness that drew him back to the bar again and again, and maybe he was drunk, but maybe this was the universe repaying him for the last.... eight or nine years. 

So he'd waited for a lull, when Mambo No. 5 had all the guests screaming towards the dancefloor, and had gone back, no sooner opening his mouth than the bar supervisor saying 'Jack, I think it's time for your break, why don't you head out for a little while?' and nodding her head towards a bewildered Davey. Jack had shot her a dazzling grin and turned to Davey, nodding his head towards the exit where they left, not before he'd grabbed Davey some water. 

'So what happened? In Santa Fe?'

'It's more what didn't happen.' 

'Oh shit.'

'I mean, like, it was fine. Good. Great, even, just - it wasn't, y'know,  _amazing, incredible_  - and because it wasn't, that made it seem worse. I thought for so long that the problem was where I was, and that I'd leave it behind when I left the city behind.'

'I take it you didn't...'

'No. Not so much. I told you, didn't I, before, however many fuckin years ago that was, about the depression thing. Like you'd remember, but -'

'I do remember.' Davey didn't want to let on that he could recall every second of their one previous encounter, but at the same time, he really did. Without telling Jack as much, he wanted Jack to know that he'd thought of him more than once in the six years that stretched between these two nights. 

'Me too.' Jack smiled, tight-lipped, turning his face up to the sky, wrapping his arms round his middle. 'I thought fresh air and I don't know, horse-riding would cure it, but, y'know, if they did then more people would do it.'

'And you've been back a year?'

'Yeah. Back to familiarity. Friends. Whatever. You know.'

'Better for it?'

'I think so. Finally getting... actual help, instead of trying to help myself.' They were quiet for a few moments, introspective, until Jack changed the subject. 'I should be getting back in soon.'

'I'm sorry I keep distracting you from work.'

'Shut up. Sorry, Dave, but. You know, it's... really, really good to see you.'

Praying the pale moonlight masked his blush, Davey ducked his head to take another sip of water. 

'I never asked, god,' Jack mercifully continued. 'How you holding up?'

Davey spluttered, coughing. Jack reached over and rubbed his back. 

'Sorry,' he laughed nervously, setting the water down. 'I just. Ha. No, I'm. Shit. It doesn't matter how I'm holding up, does it? Sarah's day. I'm trying not to be a huge rain cloud. But.'

'You're doing better than you realise.'

'You think?'

'I've glanced over once or twice. You're doing great. Picture perfect.'

'You're making it up.'

'Nah, c'mon, I saw you dancing with Sarah. It was adorable.' 

'I did like that part. But like, I  _knew_  it was nice, just... god, I'm such a dick, I just don't  _feel_  anything apart from...'

'What?'

'I don't know. This is horrible.' Davey leaned forward, groaning. ' _Fuck._  I'm such a cliche.'

'You're not! Come on, weddings just are cliches. Drunk uncles, the macarena, fricken... big hats.' 

Davey snorted. 'Big hats?'

'The - you know...' Jack gestured wildly around his head. Davey leaned into the laugh, tilting his head up, shoulders shaking. 

'Jack?' Another bartender appeared round the doorway of the tent. 'We need you back in a sec, bud.'

'Alright.' He nodded as she disappeared back inside. Davey sighed, finally feeling a little buoyed. 

'Thanks, for... Look, I'm sorry for - taking up all your time tonight.'

'Hey. Dave.'

'I'm just. Happy to see you. That might be a weird thing to say. But.'

'I'm happy to see you too. I, ah - I always remembered how easy to talk to you were.' Jack stood up, clearing his throat. 'You coming back in?'

'In a sec. Go ahead.' 

Jack turned and walked back towards the entrance, but paused, glancing back over his shoulder. 'Dave?'

'Mm?'

'Are you - seeing anyone?' 

'No... Can't you tell?' 

Jack smiled, nodded, and went back inside.

 

**2011**

It was getting later, and colder. They had started to huddle just a little, shuffling incrementally closer on the bench until their shoulders were touching. They couldn't tell what time it was but they were both a little aware that the house behind them had grown quiet.

'I know that... you're meant to say you wouldn't change anything about where you came from. But I think maybe I would.'

They'd been talking for hours. The merest suggestion of sunrise peered at them through the surrounding houses.

'What would you change?'

'I feel like... I almost got it right, right at the end. With my foster mom. And I wish there was some way I could go back and orchestrate her being in my life the whole time, rather than just from sixteen. I can pretend the system doesn't define me, but like, I don't know what else does. And maybe I'd be nicer if I'd been brought up right.'

'You don't think you're nice?'

'No, I do try to be. I just. I think something's damaged. Inside. Maybe.'

Neither could pinpoint the second where they began to offload everything that had ever troubled them, from student debt to existential crises, but both were glad it had happened.

'I think the fact that you think you might be damaged... means you're going to be okay.'

'And how's that?'

'You say that the system defines you, but you seem to be making the best of it just in case. I know I - god, just met you, wow, but I think you've pre-empted that damage and tried to make up for it. So you're just... really cool.'

Jack glanced at him, all modest smile and tired eyes. 'I know I just met  _you,_  but you know what? I'm inclined to believe you. Thanks.'

'And, um...' As Davey spoke, Jack reached over and picked up his hand. 'Santa Fe. Is that part of it?'

'Yeah. I mean I never set out to make it like, this big fresh start, or anything.' He traced a line across Davey's palm and slowly linked his fingers through Davey's. 'But it would be obtuse to pretend that had nothing to do with it.'

'You must be so excited.' He could barely hear himself over his heartbeat in his ears. 

'I am. It's what I've always -' 

A vibration in Jack's pocket jolted both of them. A persistent beep shortly followed and Jack had to drop Davey's hand to grab his phone. 

It was 5am. The message  _WAKE UP YOU LAZY ASSHOLE_  flashed on the screen. 

'Oh holy shit.' Jack spoke softly after shutting it off. 'It's morning.'

'Yeah. Surprise.' 

Jack turned to him, brow furrowed. 'My, um. My bus home is in like an hour. I have to find -'

'Jack?' 

They both turned. Crutchie stood on the porch, smiling apologetically, holding his own phone up. 

'Sorry, buddy.'

'Not your fault, Crutch. Be in in a sec.'

'Sure. Good to meet you Davey.'

Davey nodded and watched him go back inside, breathless at the thought of Jack being whisked away from him.

They stood up.

'Dave. I'll, um... I'll see ya?' 

'Yeah. Sure. Probably.' 

'Get my number off Crutchie?'

'I will.'

'And - god. Thank you, I think is what I want to say. Tonight - last night, whenever the fuck it was. It was...'

'I know.' He couldn't choke out more than a couple of words at a time. The tiredness hit him all at once and he wasn't really sure at this point if he'd dreamt Jack or not. 'It was a... a good talk.'

'Exactly. Good talk.' Jack took a step backwards. Then another one. And then he turned slowly towards the house.

'Jack -' In a split second Davey decided he couldn't  _quite_  let him go, without -

He closed the distance between them and gently took hold of Jack's cheek, just enough to hold him still so he could plant a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Just one.

Fine, two. But the third was all Jack.

Jack turned his head just slightly to catch Davey's lips fully with his own, sweet and searching, like a long, satisfying punctuation mark to their night, and he cupped the back of Davey's neck in a tiny show of how bad he wanted to pull him in tight. 

His alarm rang again after five minutes of snooze mode. He pulled it back out, shut it off, and for one last time smiled tight-lipped at Davey.

'Bye.'

Davey stayed standing in the yard, watching him disappear in the house, knowing both that he would probably never see Jack again, and that he would possibly never quite forget him.

 

**2017**

The night was winding down. Grandparents were getting into cabs. Kids fell asleep draped across chairs and tables. The music kept on for those faithful few clinging on to the magic of the night, and Davey sat in the corner with his tired parents, wondering if the bar was still serving, casting his mind back over the night. Six weeks later, when the photos arrived, and he relived the night he'd been dreading, he would feel vaguely pleased that his downward spiral didn't come across in a captured image. He looked happy, he had done the thing, and he hadn't let on to anyone that the wedding had caused him about eight simultaneous inner crises. 

(He even felt that, if you looked carefully and you knew, you'd be able to tell in which photos he'd just come back from his fix of a certain bartender.)

His mom reached over and stroked his arm. 'We're so exhausted, dear. What a day! We wouldn't dream of planning another wedding for at least, oh, five years. Maybe even ten!' 

He let out a quiet laugh at the misguided reassurance, casting a glance around the marquee that had been packed out with loved ones. Predictably, his upset surrounding the night had in part come from the realisation that his sister, just two years older than him, had found her someone, her missing piece, other half, whatever. And he had... Well, he tended to oscillate between feeling like his two or three close friends were enough, and feeling like he was the only person in the world who wasn't someone's number one. Echoes of all the people he'd loved or lost or let sleep with him over the last few years had flashed in his mind from the point Sarah asked if he was bringing a guest to the moment he put on his suit that morning, and while at times he was almost proud of being, theoretically, secure enough in himself to not bring a date, he couldn't put that across to all the guests who smiled at him pityingly. All that, mixed with his ol' reliable social anxiety and sensory overload, had led to a night he wasn't so excited about. 

'Well, mom, for you, I'll keep saying no to the dozens of guys who keep proposing. You're welco -' He froze as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he followed his mother's gaze up and behind him to see Jack standing sheepish, jacket gathered in one hand. 

'Sorry, to interrupt. I'm just - we're done. All the bar staff.'

'You did an excellent job, dear.' Esther smiled warmly, nodding at Jack because he'd obviously come over to see her.

'Thanks, Mrs. Jacobs. Congrats on today.' He looked down at Davey. 'I - I wanted to say bye.' 

Davey stood up, acutely aware that his parents were watching him, and yet utterly indifferent. 'Jack.’ His heart thumped in his chest. ‘Could you - could you not say bye?'

'What should I say instead?'

'Say that - that you won't leave it six years, this time.' 

Jack laughed quietly, nodding. 'I won't.'

'And say you'll...' Do it. Come on, Davey. 'Dance with me?' As Jack opened his mouth and began to stammer, the song changed. Bright piano, mellow voice.  _Songbird._

Jack dropped his jacket on an empty seat and took the hand that Davey offered. On the sparsely populated dancefloor they took their place, hands clasped, Davey holding Jack's waist, Jack sliding a hand up Davey's back, warm through his shirt. They swayed, compelled by the others breathing, both quite unsure that they were actually holding one another. 

'You... Always popped into my head,' Davey murmured, lips next to Jack’s ear. 'Every party. Even the good ones. They didn't measure up.' Jack pulled him a little tighter. 

'I kept hoping you'd call, Dave. I thought I'd made you up.' 

'I thought the exact same thing. Jack...' Davey pulled back just a tiny bit, just so he could rest his forehead on Jack's. 'If you're... moving across the country again, to the fucking... desert, or deep Alaska, now is the time to say, okay?' He melted as Jack chuckled. 'I'm not having you pull that stunt on me again.'

'Don't worry about it. I've found you, haven't I? I'm staying here.' 

'Here.' Davey nodded, the motion of his head bringing their lips just millimetres apart. 'Here is perfect.'


End file.
